Spring Warmth
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: A collection of stories exploring the relationship between America and England spanning from the very beginning right up to modern day. Learning is important. Tonight's topics include embroidery and English history.
1. The Beginning

_Hey everyone! I'm back with yet another attempt at a multi-chapter fic. There will be no set update schedule. It will be updated as it's written and beta'd. _

_Before I let you move on to the fic, I want to say that this whole fic is going to be about fourteen chapters and based on starrose17 of Livejournal's US/UK Instrumental FST._

_That's right. US/UK. It doesn't seem that way now, but the story will span from the beginning right up until modern day. I hope you'll stick with me! Now on to the fic!_

**The Beginning** – Early 1600's

"Land ho!"

"Land!"

"We're there!"

"The New World!"

"Good job, men!"

England let the cacophony of voices surround him, letting their excitement wash over him, but stayed silent. Instead, he focused on the image in front of him, the sight of land, new land, young land. This was it. He was finally going to see it with his own eyes. No more imagining based on stories from nations like Finland and Sweden. No. It was his turn. Finally.

"Man your positions!"

England dragged himself out of his reverie, reluctantly pulling away from the side of the ship. There would be time to enjoy the land later. First, they had to physically reach it.

"You heard him! Get moving!" England shouted, moving among the men, a swagger in his step. It wouldn't be much longer now.

ooOOoo

His first step on the Continent was breathtaking. It was green as far as the eye could see, the sky was a bright crystal blue, not a cloud marring the tableau. There was an air of tranquility, calm. A young, yet strong, land.

It was nothing he had expected. It was far better than he had even dared dream. This land was beautiful, this land was his.

"I'm going to explore," England told the ship captain before disappearing into the woods.

Once out of sight of the ship, comfortably hidden among the shadows, England stopped and took a deep breath. Even the air seemed so young, so new, so irresistible, even if the tang of the sea was the only bit of familiarity.

England began walking again. It was springtime, and already warmer than back home. He could smell that it had rained recently, the grass giving way underfoot, and yet there was no sign of it left in the sky. It was almost as if the land had prepared herself for the newcomers.

This land was the beginning of something great, the beginning of some unknown destiny. England could feel it, sense it, hear it. Every whistle of the wind through the trees, the flutter of leaves, the signing choir of insects and other animals… this land was _alive_, and it _knew_ it. It knew it was destined for something great. It was so young, so innocent. And it made England feel centuries younger, renewed his spirit, revitalized him.

There was a sudden crack of twigs and England whirled around, ready to scold one of his men for daring to disturb the peace. He choked, however, when he saw a young child with a mop of blond look at him in near fear before scampering even deeper into the woods. England stared after the child in shock before giving chase.

"H-hey, wait!"


	2. Learning

**Learning** – Early 1600's (A few months later)

America peeked around the edge of the door, his head tilting in confusion at the sight before him. England was sitting in a chair and holding a piece of white fabric in his left hand. In his right hand was a small, thin gray _thing_ and America had only a brief moment to wonder what England was going to do with it before he saw him pierce the fabric. England pulled the gray thing all the way through and America could see that there was a piece of thread following it. Thoroughly confused, America toddled into the room.

He stopped next to England's arm, fully entranced by the movement of England's hand, watching as he pulled the thing through again. His curiosity eventually got the better of him, however, and he looked up. "Engwand, what are you doing?"

England jumped, startled. He hadn't noticed America walk in the room. He looked down at him, green eyes meeting blue, and smiled before pausing in his actions. "Embroidery," he said simply.

America nodded, looking for all the world like the explanation had made sense to him. "What's that mean?" he asked, beaming.

England chuckled and placed the piece of fabric off to the side for a moment before bending over and picking America up. America laughed and leaned back into England once he settled on his lap. England was always so warm and he smelt faintly of that drink he liked so much… America let out a happy sigh, snuggling closer. When England picked up the embroidery again, America was completely surrounded by the safe warmth. "Look at the fabric," England told America who giggled at the vibrations England's voice made against his back. "Can you tell what's on it?"

America leaned forward, eyes wide as he studied the fabric. He gasped before pointing and exclaiming, "It's a bunny! Running in the woods!"

"Indeed it is," England told him, using his free hand to rub America's hair.

"Aw, Engwand, stop that!" America laughed, ducking and trying to avoid his hand.

England chuckled and dropped his hand, instead tightening his arms around America for a hug. "Fine."

"Engwand," America squirmed in his arms. "Engwand, how did you make the bunny! Pwease, tell me?"

"But America," England said in a fake whine. "I want to hug you."

"Engwand," America looked up and gave England a stern look.

England did his best to avoid laughing at the absolutely adorable, and not at all stern, look and let go of America. He adjusted himself so that he could see over America's head and separated the thread from the white fabric.

"Do you see this?" England asked, holding up the gray thing. "It's called a needle. I use it to pull the thread through this piece of fabric like so." England slowly and deliberately set the point of the needle at the back of the fabric and pushed it through, pulling almost all of the thread through as well. "And then, I do it again in the opposite direction, and it will leave a small line of color." England slowly pierced the fabric again, America watching in awe as the fabric made a small loop before flattening into a small brown line.

"Wow!" America exclaimed. "You're really good at this, Engwand!"

"Thank you," England said, still chuckling and resisting the urge to give him another hug.

They sat together, England continuing his work on the bunny and America watching in amazement, for quite some time. Eventually, however, America's head began bobbing and he leaned even further into England. Smiling fondly down at America, England set his embroidery to the side and gave him a small shake. "I think it's time for bed." England stood up, picking America up as well and taking care to keep a strong hold on him.

"I'm not tired Engwand," America protested but hid a yawn in England's shoulder.

"Don't lie, lad," England chided gently, carefully moving through the house on his way to America's room. "You've had a long day, haven't you?"

"Mhm," America muttered. His head was bobbing again though he tried to stay awake. "Could you tell me a story?"

"I don't see why not," England said, gently laying America down on the bed. "Hm… once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a great and mighty people. These people were constantly under attack by sea monsters from the north, and so they lived in fear."

"That's horrible!" America exclaimed, frowning. "Why were they attacking?"

"Because they were monsters," England said simply, a far-away look in his eye. "Then one day, a hero stood up to them. He asked them to stop attacking and they agreed."

"Good! Heroes should win!"

England shook his head sadly. "The Danes—"

America furrowed his eyebrows. "Who?"

"I mean," England laughed weakly. "The sea monsters broke their word."

America gasped, tightening his hold on his blanket.

"They took and killed hostages. But the hero refused to let them get away with it. He set up a blockade and forced them to retreat." England paused, the far-away look returning to his eye.

America frowned and poked him. "And then what happened, Engwand? Was that it? Did the hero save the day?"

"The hero was alone, and the sea monsters hadn't given up, but that didn't stop him. He took his time, planned, and recruited others to help. He won one of his towns back and then pursued the Dan—the sea monsters back to their base. And once again, he waited. The sea monsters began starving and admitted defeat."

"And he lived happily ever after?" America asked, grinning brightly.

But England shook his head. "Not quite yet. The sea monsters backed off to battle frogs—"

America wrinkled his nose. "Frogs?"

"Nasty things," England told him with a chuckle, secretly proud of the boy's reaction. "The sea monsters fought the frogs, leaving the hero to live in peace for a couple of years. But then, they came back and gave the hero trouble. Thankfully, he had prepared during the peace and was able to fight them off, and then he was declared the King of the Anglo-Saxons."

"Woah, really?"

England nodded. "Really. But those sea monsters were stubborn demons. They came back again, this time hoping to overwhelm our hero and completely take over. The hero persevered, however. His son and many other fighters kept defending themselves and attacking the sea monsters. They would push them back, fight, and even destroy their supplies. Finally, the hero blocked the river so that the sea monsters couldn't easily escape. The monsters finally realized that they were outclassed, er, out-maneuvered and gave up."

"And the hero lived happily ever after?" America asked again, looking hopeful.

"And the hero lived happily ever after," England finished, giving America a fond smile. "Now it's time for all growing heroes to go to bed."

"Aww, but Engwand, I'm still not tired yet," America whined. His drooping eyes and subsequent snuggling in the warmth of his blanket told England otherwise. "Engwand," America yawned, "what was his name?"

England blinked. He hadn't expected that question. "Uh, Alfred."

"Alfwed," America repeated, yawning again. "I like that name. Can it be my name?"

England blinked again. "What?"

"Can my name be Alfwed? Like your secret name, Artur," America muttered, more asleep than awake.

"If that is what you wish," England told him, and America nodded. "Good night, then, Alfred," England said softly, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Engwand," America whispered, his eyes closed. Soft snoring filled the room.

England stood, moving as quietly as he could towards the door. Just as he reached it, he caught sight of the familiar glow of one of his fairy friends. "Will you watch over him for me?" England couldn't help but smile when the light brightened and the room grew warmer. The light blinked and England furrowed his brow. "Always?" he repeated, surprised. The light blinked again before moving over to America's head.

England considered the fairy for a moment and then nodded. "Thank you." _Since I won't always be able to protect him._ With one last fond look into the room, England gently shut the door behind him.


End file.
